Bath Time
by Sky Samuelle
Summary: Mr. and Mrs. Bass share a moment of sexy bliss after a long, tiring day.


**Bath Time**

**Author: **Sky Samuelle

**Summary: **Inspired by a GGanon prompt. Mr. and Mrs. Bass share a moment of sexy bliss after a long, tiring day.

**Rating: **Mature

**Spoilers: **No one

**Pairing: **Chuck/Blair

**Words: **2385

"_Blair, I have no idea how you survive your life"_

It was a line Blair heard often, particularly from her best friend. The sentiment of incredulity tucked behind the words was forgivable, not only because Serena Archibald was possibly the least organized person in all the Upper East Side, but also, as she admitted reluctantly, because Blair Bass was not only a formidably busy businesswoman, but also every bit the neurotic perfectionist she had been in her high school years.

She had married young, and now, in her mid-thirties, she had three _vivacious _children to keep her _constantly_ on her toes, an occasionally irksome husband, a demanding position within Bass Industries and the added, gratifying task of balancing out her family's ruthless business reputation with consistent charity involvement.

Not to mention the fact that there were soirees to organize, soirees that had to be grand and tasteful enough to remind Manhattan that the Basses could have came late on the scene, but they were undeniably the New York equivalent of royalty.

And it was the life Blair had always dreamt of, so she could forgive herself for being temporarily overwhelmed by it once in awhile.

There were practiced ways to kill stress. In fact, during the last decade, she and Chuck had developed a whole …system around them: different types of stress required different management strategies.

There were days Blair was on the verge of a nervous breakdown because of the disturbing impossibility of controlling everything around her. Those were the days when it felt like the more she tried to pull the right strings, the more things fell apart. Chuck usually taunted and pushed until she neared the brink…then he tied her up and made it all better. Nothing like being utterly without control - hands and feet blocked, legs and arms opportunely taut while _other _hands and a merciless mouth made their bidding and everything felt so hot and alive - to force a control freak to relax. It _always_ made her instantly melt into a puddle of arousal and sweat.

Other days, she seemed to handle everything and everyone the wrong way, to say the most malicious thing to the least deserving person, to get lost in the least-flattering memory. Those were the days when she got so frustrated or ashamed with herself that she could very well drown in self-loathing...and she wasn't always capable of getting those dark feelings out of her system with a good, conventional chat. Sometimes it was just easier to ask sultrily for a good spanking and wait to be coddled into confessing the source of her discontent _after _ being thoroughly satisfied.

And then there were the days she was simply exhausted, so there was nothing else to do than have Dorota fill the bathtub and add lavender salts to the hot water.

Days like this one.

Blair sighed in contentment as her body soaked lazily in a bubble bath. Eyes closed, hair pinned up, head laying back on the tub's edge, a soft smile on her face as she inhaled the pleasantly sensual vanilla scent. Lukewarm water gently lapped at her flesh, relaxing her sore muscles as the violet foam partially hid her nakedness… the door was open, and she could hear the familiar sounds of her husband undressing in the adjoining bedroom.

It felt wonderful to just…be here, deep into the moment, after such a long, exhausting day.

She was waiting to sense Chuck stepping inside the bathroom, but when the quiet around her grew into complete silence, she turned her head slightly and opened her heavy-lidded eyes to find _her_ magnificently naked husband standing on the bathroom's threshold, observing her with a keen, fond interest.

She let her gaze indulge, running up and down his nude form. He could not be an athlete, but he had grown old well, maturity adding depth to that natural charm he had possessed in his youth. Sometimes she wished he was a little less attractive, a little less powerful so she would not have to put up with all those slim and young pretties who fell all over themselves to throw their smolderingly dull, full-toothed smiles across crowded rooms.

But tonight Blair was pleased she was the only one who could bring this man home.

"Take a picture and it'll last longer," she sniped contentedly, grinning. Her skin was literally humming with relaxation.

He grinned back. "That was just what I was thinking about doing. Glistening skin, breasts proudly rising above the water, pouting smile. I should have a picture of you like that in my office to…rejuvenate myself when I feel demotivated."

Blair rolled her eyes at his antics. "You are the most competitive person I know, _including_ me. The day you feel _demotivated_ to make more money is the day I sign you up for therapy. "

"Sex therapy, hopefully."

"Shut up and join me, you maniac."

Serena insisted on lamenting that asking her for relationship advice was useless because all of Blair and Chuck's problems were somehow resolved with sex. Blair was adamant that it wasn't her fault if Chuck happened to have lived on frequent fixes since he was eleven, but what she truly thought was that her best friend wasn't in the position to understand her viewpoint. After all, Serena had married _Nate_ and from what Blair vaguely remembered, while her blonde childhood sweetheart was pretty decent at what he did –except that one time after her Cotillion, but to be fair, it wasn't his fault she had been too focused on shutting out her fury with a certain Bass to orgasm- his average repertoire was bound to grow boring with constant practice.

She made enough space to give Chuck the chance to settle behind her and he stepped inside the tub, sitting so that they could slide against each other until they had accommodated themselves: her body nestled between his open legs, her head leaning on his shoulder, her back against his wiry chest. Water rippled around them and rose to splash on the floor tiles, but even their tidy selves could not bring themselves to care. It felt a unique kind of wonderful, comfy and yet sexy.

The hitch of her breath mingled with his own as her ass _casually _snuggled against his groin: suddenly, Blair felt more playful than tired. He had always done this to her, spinning her moods so fast that her brain barely kept up with them, dark to light, bright to thunderous, dull to frighteningly intense.

His lips brushed her nape and she could have purred at the sensation if it hadn't lasted such a short time, because the next thing she knew, her pins were out and her hair was spilling down onto her shoulders.

His hand closed around her arm and slipped over her wet skin up to the curve of her underarm and then down to her elbow, his other palm firm on her stomach, keeping her close. She just sighed because Chuck got caught in those odd moments of fetish once in a while: he would get ridiculously obsessed with parts of her body and spend ages on them while she tried to get him to move on.

"You need to wash my hair."

It was totally her imagination that colored her little, snappish command with petulance. She had not just sounded needy. She had _not. _ She was just anticipating, really.

"You are such a bossy little slut, Mrs. Bass," he drawled in her ear, the warmth of both his teasing tone and his breath on her damp skin eliciting a shiver of lust.

She was going to respond to his barb, but the moment the cool fluid landed on her head her neck was already arching back toward his hands. She did not even mind so much that he was overtly chuckling at her eagerness. It was just _that_ good, to feel his fingers, coated with shampoo, massaging her scalp and disentangling her now wet locks.

It wasn't just the idea of how tender the scene could appear from the outside, it was knowing that he was going be _that _languorously attentive to the rest of her. It was a horny promise wrapped like a grand romantic gesture and Blair loved it. Very much.

So much so that by the time her husband was done and grabbed her vanilla and yang-yang body foam, she had already bent up her knees to sag properly against him, her back flush with his chest, thighs spreading a bit wider as desire had her quivering inside.

Blair closed her eyes again, her teeth sinking into her bottom lip as his right hand closed around her breast, the contrast between the warm water embracing their figures and the cold lotion smeared by his palm on her slippery flesh making his relentless massage all the more erotic. Her nipples puckered and ached as his kneading fingers lavished their attention on the lower curve and side of her breast, and then his hot tongue curled around her earlobe, lingeringly tasting her there in a suckling, arousing caress that made her sex throb violently in response.

She concentrated on keeping quiet, not so much because she didn't want to concede to him the satisfaction of hearing her vocalizing her need so soon, but because it was part of the game and the forced self-restraint would render the final surrender all the more gratifying.

Just when she was enjoying the welcome pressure on her nipple, squeezing and tweaking in turns, and was quite close to asking him to put his other hand to good use as well, the sponge's coarse surface came in contact with the delicate flesh of her tummy, rubbing her harshly underwater. Her eyes snapped open, but she didn't protest as Chuck nipped at the juncture between her neck and shoulder, distracting her from his unexpected roughness for that fistful of seconds necessary to realize that she didn't completely mind it, especially not when the sponge was traveling to the underside of her neglected breast and then higher, casually mistreating her hardened peak before coming back down along her sides, and again across her abdomen.

"Fuck," she gasped, her hands grabbing the tub's edge and holding on: the alternate softness and brusqueness of his touch had entwined bewilderingly to wreak havoc on her perception, lighting a spark that ran all over her over- sensitized skin.

His erection pressed against her, and any other day she wouldn't mind rising on her knees and lowering herself onto it…no, she wouldn't mind the steady burn of him stretching her, his cock filling her slowly from behind, her core on fire as his firm grip on her hips guaranteed to him the right to regulate the angle and the pace of his penetration just hard enough that it would please her and just careful enough that it wouldn't hurt her more than she liked. Even the memory made her toes curl.

Blair Bass did love it a little rough on occasion… but this wouldn't become one of _those _times. She was in the mood for something different, like enjoying Chuck's hands soothing the flesh they had slightly abraded before.

He had turned over the sponge to caress her with its smooth side so he could explore her in deliberate, long-drawn-out circular strokes around her breasts, her belly, her outer and inner thighs.

There was something indistinctly filthy about letting him touch her like this, intimately and leisurely, at his will.

And Chuck, of course, knew just how tint it even dirtier.

"You are so hot when you try to play the frigid, unresponsive queen," he taunted, his voice a rich, seductive rumble that washed all over her.

She smiled triumphantly when she heard him grunt as she snuggled up against him in retribution, sliding her back up his chest and wriggling her bottom against his stomach.

His stiff length poked her right below the crevice between her cheeks, and he hissed through gritted teeth at the brushing of her supple curves.

The rush of power it gave her went straight to her womb, making her impatient for release, so Blair craned her neck back, cradling her head over his shoulder, and purred that one phrase that was going to get her exactly what she wanted:

"I want to cum. Right now."

It was a dirty trick, to get vulgar in such a compromising position, but it was also impossible to summon any guilt when Chuck's breath was rushing out of his lungs in a loud whoosh and he was straining instinctively toward her ass crack.

"Blair!" he groaned, a guttural sound that was heightened by exasperated frustration and lust, fisting the sponge in her lap.

"Come on," she moaned, guiding his free hand with hers between her legs, to that vulnerable, hot place that ached for his presence.

Chuck cupped her sex with what could have been called a whimper coming from _anyone_ else, drawing her closer so that his tip could be nestled in her crevice.

"Yes!" she cried out while he thumbed her clit jerkily, his thick length humping her in a strained motion.

At some point in their twisted competition for release her mind simply…blacked out for few interminable seconds, her vision a blinding white field although her eyes had remained wide open. Everything spiralled out of reach as Blair felt her pleasure snaking through her like a wild, incandescent wave and she soared above it, to somewhere unbearably beautiful and heart-renderingly pure.

And then slowly, sweetly she was coming back to herself, spiralling down in a glowing daze.

Barely audible over the erratic pounding of her blood in her ears, a familiar coarse voice called a name,like if from a long distance, and it occurred to her that it was her name, _his _voice, and that Chuck was following her in ecstasy.

They slumped around each other, depleted and unwilling to move more than was actually necessary as the haze of bliss begun to recede.

"You know," - Blair sighed, curling up in his arms and resting her forehead on his collarbone, her legs tangled with his- "It's in moments like this one that I can see why the French call it 'The Little Death.'"

**AN: I swear I get dirtier with every prompt I accept. Forgive me and review all the same?**


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